


In the End, I Couldn't Be Special

by blue_kuronuma_21



Category: Persona 5
Genre: Angst, Canonical Character Death, Character Study, Denial of Feelings, Hurt No Comfort, Jealousy, M/M, Masturbation, Persona 5 Spoilers, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, Unrequited Love, kind of unrequited love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-23
Updated: 2020-05-23
Packaged: 2021-03-02 22:07:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,765
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24334096
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blue_kuronuma_21/pseuds/blue_kuronuma_21
Summary: “Never fall in love, Goro,” she managed to croak in between her cries. He could hardly see her eyes behind her tears. “Such a thing is for fools. Love isn’t meant for us, and we’re not meant for happy endings.” She took in a shaky breath. “Love is what got me where I am now.”On that cold November night, Akechi Goro understood what it meant. Love was a stain on the human psyche, and it was a catalyst for destruction. It manifested in the strangers his mother would invite into their home, and it left its scars on his mother’s tear-stained face. Until then, his mother had only been keeping him safe from the cruel world beyond their door. At that moment, Akechi Goro understood that love was but another terrifying disaster waiting just outside the walls his mother had built for them.
Relationships: Akechi Goro/Kurusu Akira, Akechi Goro/Persona 5 Protagonist
Comments: 4
Kudos: 100





	In the End, I Couldn't Be Special

**Author's Note:**

> Y'allll so I'm back on my bullshittt. So it's 2:30 am as I finish this and bruhhh I'm supposed to be working on my own book b/c I wanna finish it by the end of summer, but a bitch be procrastinating by projecting on fanfictions!!! I would write about my sushi adventures today, but this is a DISCLAIMER: the explicit tag is lowkey just in case because this fic is mostly just character study and the rated r scene isn't very explicit. But I just wanna be safe about it, so pls enjoy :-)))

He was five years old when he had first learned what “love” was. It wasn’t spectacular. There was no girl at the playground who made his heart soar and his face tint pink. There was no classmate handing him a White Day gift. There were no fireworks nor love songs flooding the Valentine’s air. It was nothing spectacular. 

The day Akechi Goro learned what “love” was happened to be in November. Valentine’s Day, White Day--any holiday celebrating love was far in the distant future. His teacher wasn’t a warm embrace or a box of chocolates. His teacher had no gleaming smile adorning her face. Instead, she had tears pouring down her porcelain face as her shoulders heaved with each sporadic breath. The one who taught him what “love” meant--his teacher--was his mother. 

“Never fall in love, Goro,” she managed to croak in between her cries. He could hardly see her eyes behind her tears. “Such a thing is for fools. Love isn’t meant for us, and we’re not meant for happy endings.” She took in a shaky breath. “Love is what got me where I am now.” 

On that cold November night, Akechi Goro understood what it meant. Love was a stain on the human psyche, and it was a catalyst for destruction. It manifested in the strangers his mother would invite into their home, and it left its scars on his mother’s tear-stained face. Until then, his mother had only been keeping him safe from the cruel world beyond their door. At that moment, Akechi Goro understood that love was but another terrifying disaster waiting just outside the walls his mother had built for them.

\--- 

He was fifteen years old when he realized his Persona. And he was fifteen years old when he became acquainted with the man named Masayoshi Shido. 

His mother was long gone by the time he met the man responsible for her demise. His blood curdled as he beamed effortlessly at the politician. It would take time, he snarled inwardly, but the name Masayoshi Shido would be spelled out in blood upon sidewalks as everyday people gasped at the mere mention of such a cursed word. There would be no salvation for Masayoshi Shido.

And Akechi Goro felt no remorse in his soul at such a thought. The world had spared no mercy for him and his mother. Why would Shido be any different? 

Time continued onward as it always did. The wounds of his mother’s death remained ever present on his blood-stained hands as he marked the end of yet another successful mental shutdown. He would return to the real world, report to Shido, then solve the resulting case with faux uncertainty as if he hadn’t seen the victim’s last moments himself. Like running to the bath house whenever his mother brought home customers or changing foster homes every few months, it became routine. 

Yet, Akechi had never planned for the swelling in his heart as Shido praised him for a job well done. He had never anticipated the gradual chipping of those familiar walls his mother had built as Shido grinned at the results. 

As Akechi Goro spun on his heel from Shido’s office and slammed the door shut, he shuddered and scrunched his nose. A man like Masayoshi Shido deserved no joy in his life. Like father, mother, and son, there would be no joy in their lives. He had no right to praise Akechi as if he hadn’t abandoned him and his mother. He was no father, and Akechi Goro felt no love toward the man. Love manifested itself in thousands of hideous forms. They manifested in his mother’s disgusting customers. And it also manifested itself in the monster of Masayoshi Shido. 

\--- 

He was seventeen years old when he sat upon a plush couch under copious amounts of shining lights and equally copious amounts of pressure. He had become accustomed to it, he supposed; the screaming fans, murdering of targets, and aspirations of Shido. He was well accustomed to the weight he beared on his shoulders. It often crept onto his superficial smile as he chuckled at an interviewer’s unfunny comment. Despite feeling nothing akin to humor from the interviewer’s comments, he laughed as if it was the best joke someone had ever told. Appearances, afterall, were everything.

“Alright, let’s try asking this student here,” the female talk-show host cooed, gaudy charm oozing from her voice. She lowered the microphone in front of a student in the audience. “Hypothetically speaking, what are your thoughts on the Phantom Thieves, if they were real?” 

Akechi scoffed inwardly. It was barely a fair question. Like everyone he had ever met as the famous high school detective, the student would agree with him. Popularity came with its quirks, but it also brought a sense of superiority. Everyone would agree with him regardless of their true opinions; who would ever question a man as popular as him anyway?

“They’re justice itself,” was the answer the talk-show host received. 

For the first time since he began his life as the charismatic and likeable detective, his facade had dissipated if only for a moment. His eyes grew wide, and his ever-present grin wavered before he realized his careless mistake. He felt his body become alight with flames. No one had ever contradicted him. No one was brave or stupid enough to even attempt sharing their differing opinions with him, let alone on live television. He gritted his teeth behind his tight-lipped smile. 

“This completely goes against the opinion you had about them being tried by law, Akechi-kun,” the male talk-show host commented.

He felt his resolve cracking. He would have loved nothing more than to snap at the talk-show host. Of course it contradicted his opinion. He didn’t need someone to spell it out for him. He clenched his fist out of the camera’s view. Perhaps he did. Despite it being so simple, it was incomprehensible. His eyes fell to the student. How dare he speak so daringly to him when he couldn’t even be bothered to comb his hair? 

“Indeed,” he settled on. “It’s rather intriguing to hear such a strong acknowledgment.” 

\---

It was a few months later when he found himself back where he began. He knew it was bound to happen; it was the plan he and Shido had concocted, afterall. They would surely capture and destroy the Phantom Thieves, but first the criminals would have to succeed, and Akechi would fail. The world would once again despise Akechi Goro, and he shouldn’t have been so dumbfounded by the sudden shift. 

For years, he had grown accustomed to the piercing glares of passer-bys and taunts of his classmates due to his upbringing. However, after years of complete stardom and worship, that world grew distant. He forced another smile to his lips as he sipped yet another steaming cup of coffee at LeBlanc, his newfound getaway. 

“This cup is quite delicious, Kurusu-kun,” he commented to the barista, ignoring the way Loki burned inside of him. 

Akira grinned while unhurriedly wiping down another cup. “I learned from Sojiro,” he replied, setting the cup on a drying rack. Akechi grimaced at its still evident coffee residue. “You seem to like it enough to keep coming back.” He rolled his sleeves up before leaning against the bar. Akechi swallowed. “Why?” 

He hated how it took a moment for his brain to process the question. He kept the half-empty cup to his lips to mask his pensivity. “It’s become harder for me to find a place where I am welcomed, what with all this Phantom Thieves business,” he responded coolly. “It seems I’m unwanted wherever I go.” He attempted to not let him hear the way his voice shook slightly. 

Akira furrowed his brows. “Well,” he stated simply, “you’re always welcome here.” 

Akechi found himself gripping the mug handle much too harshly. He was sure his knuckles were pure white. It took all his will power to set the cup down with a much-too-polite smile on his face. Kurusu Akira had no right to say those words. He had no right to defy him on live television, and he certainly had no right to pity Akechi. That was the only emotion he could decipher in his blatantly honest eyes: pity. 

He wanted to scream. Akira was beneath him. He lived in an attic, associated with delinquents, and lived life as a carefree high school student--no worry as to how others perceived him. His clothes smelled of burnt coffee beans and cat piss, and his hair could easily house dozens of crows. The man most likely had terrible vision, too, with glasses frames so thick (though he wondered if said glasses were real). How could someone so beneath him look at him like that? Like he pitied him, a paragon of success? 

He gritted his teeth as he averted his gaze to his then empty coffee cup. How could someone with so little have everything he desired? 

“That’s much appreciated,” he forced. “But I’m afraid I must go. I still have the Phantom Thieves to catch, you know.” He rose from his chair with a grin and grabbed his briefcase from the adjacent barstool. 

It was best to leave before his thoughts continued to wander. It was best to leave before those walls built so many years prior began to crumble. He had only crumbled once in his life, and that was the moment he realized his mother had abandoned him due to her own selfishness. From then on, he followed her example perfectly. He would never allow himself to feel. Happy endings were not for people like himself, and he understood that from an early age. He had crumbled at his mother’s funeral, and he had barely cracked from Shido’s constant bombardment of praise, so why would a boy he barely knew be the one to destroy those walls?

“Thank you, Kurusu-kun,” he said, back facing the boy as his hand found the cafe door’s handle. “The coffee was--” 

The hand carrying his briefcase was yanked backward as he felt deft fingers curl around his wrist. He felt Loki roar once again as he quickly turned to face the perpetrator.

“Stay,” Akira said, eyes vulnerable and pleading. “Please.” 

Akechi felt his world halt on its axis. He made no attempt at masking the horror on his face as he gazed at the boy for more time than he usually allowed himself. The boy was insufferable. He was worthless, and he had no business touching him. He wished to yank his hand back violently and yell at him; he should know his place. How dare he not only pity but mock him as well? Akechi didn’t need anyone, and he was perfectly capable by himself. He didn’t need to “stay.” 

Yet, he found himself helpless as more time elapsed. He hadn’t known it, but those words were what he hoped for. He wished for nothing more than to stay and have another cup or simply talk to the barista. He felt his heart race and face flush as he stared at the boy. His hair was unkempt, clothes askew and wrinkled, and his walk just edging on comical. He found himself helpless regardless. 

He allowed himself a genuine smile--a smile reserved for Akira’s eyes only. 

“It’s funny,” he mumbled. “It seems I can talk to you about just anything for hours and not worry about what I’ll say.” 

He turned from Akira and pulled his arm close to his body before leaving the cafe. For him, it was much easier to build upon his existing walls than let them be torn down. 

He grimaced as he walked to the train station and rubbed his fingers over the spot Akira had grasped him. He was no fool; he was a detective, and he knew how to analyze people better than anyone. After years of building and sheltering himself from the cruel reality of the world that consisted of shadows and corruption, someone had invited himself behind the safety of his walls. That word he learned years ago manifested in many things. It manifested itself in his mother’s gross customers and a corrupt politician named Masayoshi Shido. Above all, it manifested itself in a boy named Kurusu Akira. 

Akechi Goro was seventeen years old when he learned what love was.

\---

He had always been alone, so he wasn’t bothered by that simple fact. That fact shone itself through the most miniscule details of his life such as his city apartment where he stayed, alone. He had never considered it home. His home had disappeared years ago the minute that tattered rope hung his mother from the ceiling of her bedroom. If he had a home, it certainly would not be his apartment that he barely spent two hours in at a time. 

If he had a home, it would be filled with the aroma of freshly brewed coffee. It would have curry boiling on a stovetop with a high-pitched hiss as the sound of a chime signaled the arrival of a customer. If he had a home, it would be far from the bustle of the city. The only noises you could hear would be the clanking of cups against saucers and the faint chattering from a TV in the corner. The cars and trains rolling across streets would disappear, and the blinding lights of office buildings would fade into a dim ceiling light. The commands from Masayoshi Shido would phase into a simple order of coffee. There would be no orders to kill. All orders could be easily completed by pouring a pitcher over a cup. 

But his life was not made for happy endings, so he never dared to dream. Dreaming, he supposed, could never do one any good. It constantly ended in disappointment and heartbreak. And Akechi Goro understood from an early age that it was better to never reach for the impossible. 

Yet, he found himself, brain rampant with thoughts and what ifs in the dead of night. He had never considered himself a heavy sleeper. Some nights he barely slept: he either had paperwork, schoolwork, or something on his mind. He always managed to receive some sleep despite it all. But that night was different. 

He bit his lip and screwed his eyes shut as he worked himself under the covers. He rarely touched himself; he never had the time, and if he did, it didn’t interest him. But that night was full of exceptions. He scoffed: the whole year was one for exceptions. 

He had attempted to imagine a woman by his side. He attempted to imagine the face of a woman who he had seen on the cover of a rather explicit magazine cover from the convenience store. But each time hazy manicured fingers curled around himself, he no longer saw ruby red lips or long black hair. Instead, he imagined calloused hands and a nest of raven-black hair. Instead, he imagined piercing gray eyes behind glasses he had finally deduced as fake. Instead, he imagined it was Akira. 

He imagined what he knew best: pain. It would be fast, rough, and hard. His hand quickened its pace as he thought of the man atop him with either hand beside Akechi’s head. He wondered how it would feel as Akira pounded into him with reckless abandon or how it would be if Akechi perched himself atop the other. How it would feel to be in charge yet surrender such an intimate part of himself. 

He furrowed his brows as he focused his attention on the imaginary Akira. He would make Akira feel amazing. Better than anyone else could. He could feel his free hand clutching his sheets in a mixture of passion and hatred. Okumura Haru had no right to have Akira’s attention. She had no right forcing Akira to blush at her incessant giggling. Akira should have been looking at him, not Haru. And that Sakamoto? Who did he think he was? Not only was he a nuisance and delinquent, but he was always around Akira!

His grip on the sheets tightened. Akira was his, and they could never take that away from him. He had worked so hard. His life had battered him broken, yet he continuously trudged onward. He deserved something good for once. He deserved someone. And he wanted it so badly it hurt. He wanted that happy ending. Deep down, he so desperately craved it, but he knew he would never be granted that opportunity. For people like him, it was impossible. He had done so much wrong in his life. He was sure the Phantom Thieves had discovered him, but Akira’s perception of him never wavered: he continued to gaze at him like he was the world. Despite his rage and terror screaming for him to stop, Akechi desired that more than anything. For that acceptance. For Akira’s acceptance. 

By then, his fantasy had become reduced to slow-paced lovemaking. Akira would take the lead, and Akechi would allow himself to surrender. In his fantasy world, he would finally surrender control. And it wouldn’t be to Shido or Loki. It wouldn’t be to the police force or society. It would be to Akira. 

When the hazy Akira murmured those three words against Akechi’s porcelain skin, he came with a muffled grunt. His breath became labored as the gravity of his action began to weigh down on him. He had fallen for the person he was made to murder in cold blood. Murdering him was part of the plan. He had spent years of hardship and pain to arrive at the summit. All it required was will-power, strength, and fortifying those walls he had begun to dismantle. 

When he checked the time, the calendar read, “November 20th.” 

\--- 

He didn’t hesitate as the bullet left his gun and lodged itself in Akira’s skull. It was quick, painless, and routine. He ignored the pang in his chest as he placed the gun beside Akira’s corpse. He left the room before he did something he would regret. He left the room before he could realize what he had done.

As he finished his call with Shido, he reminded himself of three essential facts of his life: In Masayoshi Shido’s eyes, he had killed Kurusu Akira, the leader of the Phantom Thieves, in cold blood. In Shido’s eyes, he murdered Akira because he was the leader of the Phantom Thieves; it would disband the threat to his campaign. In his own eyes, he murdered Akira because he had gotten too close. Kurusu Akira had made the fatal mistake of seeing something in Akechi that was never there: good will. 

And finally, Akechi reminded himself of the most simple and essential fact of his life: it was easier keeping people outside his walls than begging them to stay.

\--- 

Kurusu Akira, Akechi decided, was quite similar to himself in more ways than one. The most definitive commonality they shared was that they both had committed a fatal mistake. Kurusu Akira had made the fatal mistake of believing Akechi Goro could be good once again--that he could be part of the Phantom Thieves. For Akechi, his mistake was believing that Akira could be correct. For Akechi, his mistake was believing that he could have a happy ending. 

He denied his belief in broad daylight. On talk-shows, in Shido’s office, and even as he searched for the infamous Thieves in the politician’s Palace. But his walls had crumbled. Despite his attempts at rebuilding them, the illustrious Joker had done what he did best: steal hearts. 

Akechi Goro vehemently denied the possibility of him being granted a happy ending until he lay at Akira’s feet, broken and vulnerable. Bruises littered his body, and the blood of his enemies dripped from his hands as it always had. There were no walls. His body, personality, Persona, and sins lay bare for Akira. And the boy’s perception never wavered. He gazed upon a sad, empty husk of a human and saw the good. 

“You can come back,” was all he said.

And Akechi ceased denying his belief in happy endings. He didn’t deserve a happy ending despite how desperately he craved it. He knew that like he knew left from right; it was common knowledge. He didn’t deserve happiness nor love. But he craved it, and his opportunity was waiting for him. He simply had to reach out to grasp it. 

But that was never the case. It never was. What he desired would always be just beyond his reach, and Akechi had forgotten such a simple rule that dominated his life. This teasing of happiness reared its head when he returned home from school to tell his mother of the new friend he made only to find her dead. He transferred schools the following week, and happiness grew distant from his reach. It reared its head as Shido praised him for murder and crime but paraded his true colors when Akechi failed to meet his expectations. And, when Akechi began to believe that this pattern would change, that simple fact reared its head when Shido’s cognition of himself shot him. 

For Akechi Goro, it was easier to keep others out than allow them in. There would be no purpose in allowing his walls to falter. When Akechi would inevitably fall from grace and perish, he would take all those behind those walls with him. For Akechi Goro, there were no happy endings for people like him. 

As he rose to his feet and grimaced at the pain manifesting in his side, he smiled bitterly if only to himself. 

“I was such a fool,” was all he said as he recalled his mother’s words. 

Love is what caused heartbreak and failure. It inevitably caused weakness and pain. If one fell in love, it would lead to their downfall. His mother had made the fatal mistake of falling in love. She had fallen for a client who only cared more for his own pleasure than her heart. Love wasn’t meant for his mother, and Akechi believed he understood that him and his mother were not so different. He understood that fact extremely well. But he realized too late that he had never come to accept it. Like his own mother, love was never meant for him. 

He shot at the button far from him and the Phantom Thieves. Before Akira could do anything stupid or enter beyond his walls once more, Akechi did what he did best: 

He fortified his walls one last time.

**Author's Note:**

> Omg I'm so tired but also the other day I almost ran over a homeless dude and he asked me to roll down my window and I was like bro Imma get sick but fuck it yanno how it is. So he's like i'm homeless do you guys have $2 for bus fare and so we gave him like $20. He gave us some good life advice afterward. Anyway I hope y'all enjoyed this and if you did please leave a kudos or a comment! Any feedback I genuinely love and appreciate! Tysm y'all are amazing :-)))


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